Goodbye
by planet p
Summary: AU; Peri says "goodbye" to her parents.


**Goodbye** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _Doctor Who_ or any of its characters.

* * *

><p><span>Nebraska, USA<span>

Peri shivered and stared up at the darkened ceiling. Normally, she'd have liked the sound of the wind and rain, but tonight it only served to make her colder. The heater had given out ten minutes after she'd switched it on and nothing the Doctor could do could convince it to work again; it was well and truly done.

It was just too cold to sleep.

Dropping her gaze from the ceiling, she turned to glance at the Doctor. "Are you sleeping?" she asked quietly, just in case he really was sleeping and she woke him up and got him cranky.

"Yes. Now go to sleep," came the reply.

She refrained from a sigh. She was too cold to sigh, to do much of anything but shiver, and even that was starting to hurt. If only the heater would decide it was really okay and start working again. If only the motel had stocked more blankets! It _was_ winter, for Heaven's sakes. "I'm too cold."

"Oh-"

Fed up with his blase attitude, she got out of bed and stumbled across the room, half-blind in the dark. The floor was like ice! Reaching the Doctor's bed, she felt around for his face. His answering yelp told her she'd found it.

"You're freezing!" he whined, and sat up.

Peri shivered, then sat down on the bed beside him. "Now you believe me," she grumbled unhappily.

"Come here."

She peered into the dark. Come where?

A hand touched her arm. She fought the urge to brush it away. It wasn't cold like her hand. It was warm. She lifted her feet up onto the bed and shuffled closer to the Doctor. Warm.

.

It was probably fairly silly, Peri thought, but for all that the Doctor maintained that he was an alien, and that this meant some huge, great difference between them, he still _looked_ human enough, he talked to her in her own language (or so it seemed to her ears; thanks, TARDIS), and he _did_ have feelings: she just wasn't willing to accept that load of trot he'd come out with. He was just making out that he was so different, she suspected, because, well, it mattered to him what she thought of him, because this new regeneration had been - was - unstable, it is was easier to say, "No, I'm just not like you" than to say, "I understand that I have a problem and I want you to understand that, too. It's not that I'm giving up; I'm still trying, but things might sometimes go askew. Please just don't expect too much, okay". Because, she didn't know, people got all huffy about stuff like that, about the loss of dignity, or whatever. As if she'd have held it against him!

But he was right, this new regeneration _was_ unstable, so, no, even though _he_ might hold it against her, she wasn't going to hold it against him back. He was a good person underneath, she knew that, so as long as he didn't go being violent, she could handle it. He was like a child. He had to say the first thing that popped into his head, right or wrong, because, well, wasn't it just so... so novel! Someone had to say it, didn't they, because what if it one day turned out to be... to be cool or funny or really relevant? Or, worse, what if he said nothing and... and wouldn't that just be like being dead... sort of?

Really, she felt bad for him, for this unwanted complication to his life. But he _was_ working on it, wasn't he. Learning to better manage it. He wasn't always horrible and mean. And most of the time, she could brush his comments aside, when she wasn't working herself up in much the same way she imagined he did, so that something really very trivial seemed ridiculously important and she'd have to say to herself, "Slow down, Peri. Take a couple of deep breaths. Listen to yourself as if you're remembering something that's already happened, as if you're just an onlooker to it: Does it sound rational? Is it worth it?" That always helped. A little.

The Doctor _was_ older. He should have been more... mature. But she supposed, now that his regeneration had gone lop-sided, she'd have to dispense of such expectations. And it really wasn't fair of her, anyhow, acting so childish. Yes, she was the younger of them, but that didn't honestly give her free reign to play the fool, did it? To pretend ignorance when it just wasn't true? No, because that was just silly. Petty. And... and she was proud of herself, of being a human being, and she believed in... in people. And she was going to... to set a good example; to say, "Look, you see, we're not all... so full of our own importance that all we can see is ourselves." In any case, she just wasn't that person, so what was the use in pretending? Merely to satisfy the Doctor's clouded judgement of her? Well, thanks, but no thanks. He mightn't have been himself, but that was asking too much. Hey, I know you probably think I'm pretty... daft, but if you just make out like you're dafter, then I won't feel as bad. How was he ever going to get better, to learn to manage his current mental state any better, if she played those sorts of games? It was silly, and she wasn't buying into it. He could look as daft as he wanted, she didn't care. And if he ever felt awful for it, and wanted to talk, she'd be around, wouldn't she. He could learn to use his gob for more than handing out insults or talking himself up with absolutely no reason. It would do him some good.

For now, she was just glad he was still asleep. If he woke up and discovered her here - and not in her own bed - he'd likely flip. She'd never hear the end of it, then. She'd be... Ooo, she'd be accused of trying to seduce him for some devious ends, and that would just be the beginning of it, really. As if she knew anything about seduction. Or thought so little of men that she lived her life believing them to be little more than tools at her disposal, if she so mastered the art of using them. To think so would be insulting not only to men, but to herself, also, as a woman, and she didn't play those segregate-the-masses games. They were just... not right. And they gave the wrong impression. She believed in... well, as cliched as it sounded, in world peace, and unity, and harmony. She didn't support that kind of thinking and she didn't like those games. It made her feel... manipulative and inhumane. If anyone had ever justified their manipulativeness because it gave them such a feeling of aliveness, of power, then she didn't care. Power trip or no, it just wasn't worth it. If she wanted to feel good about herself there were other ways to do it and she wasn't going for the easy money option. Besides, it would only feel cheap. She didn't want her happiness to feel cheap, or at the expense of... of someone else's. She wanted it to feel real, not flimsy. Maybe she was just a fool that way, but she didn't care. Better to be a fool in love than to never know love at all, to never feel love for real, to live in illusion of it all your life.

She stifled a sigh. She actually didn't feel too bad right now, all things considered. And the funny thing was, she wasn't upset or bothered at all by the Doctor's vibes when he was asleep. He felt kind of... peaceful. Whether or not he would agree with her, she couldn't say, but that was just her feelings on the subject. She didn't think he was awful or silly or ridiculous when he wasn't putting her down, or putting her off, just to make himself feel better about himself. Or whatever. Didn't he like humans? Wasn't that supposed to be his thing, his catchcry? Wasn't he just a silly thing, sometimes. All muddled up, the poor dear.

She resisted the urge to grin, though it was very hard. Usually, the Doctor was the one calling her "dear" all the time. It was always "my dear", and the like. It was pretty funny, she thought, her now calling him it. Even if just in her mind.

She smiled a little bit. Just a little, though.

If the Doctor woke up and saw her smiling, he'd _really_ flip his lid. Then she'd have to go and point out, feeling like an idiot the entire time, "Excuse me but don't you think, if anything untoward... anything intimate had transpired between us, I rephrase - _untoward_ comes off as stuck-up - wouldn't we be wearing just a _little_ less clothes? Did that thought ever... cross your mind at all?" Then she'd just have to bite her tongue and refrain from adding, "You do know about... well, about all that, don't you? How old are you again? You don't still think babies come out of cabbage patches, do you?" with an obviously _Sending you up, here, Dumbo_ expression of worry on her face.

Oh, no, a riot as it would be, it would also be an absolutely _terrible_ start to the day!

She laughed, and clapped a hand over her mouth. Oopsy! But the more she tried to stop herself from laughing, the more she seemed to want to laugh. It was awful. Soon, she was shaking from head to toe, trying not to break out in a fit of cackles. Cackling didn't suit her; she'd found that out at a _very_ early age. It _scared_ people when she laughed like that.

She didn't settle down until she noticed that the Doctor was staring at her with hazy eyes, bleary from sleep, still, and it occurred to her suddenly that, hang on, no, yes, actually - this was bad.

As usual, she immediately launched into a badly thought out (or not thought out at all, rather) explanation, "Oh, my stars! You're awake. I was- I _swear to you_, I swear I was leaving _any_ second, but you're warm and you smell so nice and..." Her eyes widened. What had she just _said_? Oh God! "That... that came out wrong!"

He patted her head and mumbled, "That's nice, dear."

Though slightly offended, she was also a little glad. Lucky save. She finally allowed herself to sigh.

"You have strange dreams," he went on, still sort of mumbling, "strange dreams, indeed. Myself-"

She frowned, and touched his arm with a hand. "Strange dreams? What are you talking about, Doctor? How would you know what sort of dreams I have, or... or don't have? Do I talk in my sleep?"

He opened his eyes quickly, as though to say, _Nope, I wasn't just falling asleep! No way._ "Hmm?"

"I talk in my sleep, Doctor?"

He frowned and waved a hand at her dismissively. "No, no. Of course not, my dear. Of course not."

"You said I have strange dreams, Doctor," she reminded him, an edge of concern to her voice.

"Did I?" he asked suddenly. "Ah well, I was... Rambling, my dear Peri. That is all. Nothing to worry about. I... I confess, I quite often talk without making any sense at all. Myself, I can't even decipher a jot of sense from half the stuff I blather on about. Nothing to worry about at all, my dear. Rest assured."

She frowned. She didn't believe him. What... what if he'd hypnotised her or something? To... to quiz her more about... about her being a... a traitor? A spy? Or... or something like that! She didn't- She didn't believe a word he said. He was hiding something, she just knew it!

"You may have said something about snow and a country home. No! A winter house. But it's all very vague in my memory now, and you _were_ mumbling, my dear."

She crossed her arms, unhappy. "Anything else that I accidentally let slip whilst I was about it?"

"Something about chocolate cake, perhaps." He sighed. "Oh dear, we must stop talking about cake. From now on, we won't mention cake at all."

"I _do like_ chocolate cake," she shared, more so because he'd asked that they not bring it up than for any other reason. She was still slightly ticked off at him.

He made a face, looking just a bit desperate. "Please do not talk about it!"

She smiled. "My super, fantastic, awesome culinary skills even run to making chocolate cake! Bet mine's better than yours!" Her smile became a grin. Take that, Doctor!

"Impossible!" he said suddenly, with bright eyes.

"Aliens can't make chocolate cake," she returned, as though the very thought was just _silly_.

"Well, _this_ alien can! I'll stake my life on it!"

"That's taking it a bit far, isn't it, Doctor? We humans are known for our inventive methods of killing, as you know. How about we settle for something a little less... blood-thirsty?"

He narrowed his eyes in calculation.

"A kiss?"

"Hmm?"

She frowned at him. "You heard me."

"So it seems I did, my dear. So it seems I did."

"And?" she prompted.

"And, kissing is such a vulgar practise!"

She laughed. "_Vulgar?_ Vulgar, Doctor! You call _kissing_ vulgar, yet you persist in getting around in that... in that _abominable coat_!"

"It's bright and... and cheerful, and if you must know, I think it's quite... neat."

"Well I think it's awful, just like your cooking. Are we on or what?"

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "Yeees, I should think so. My cooking is not awful, Perpugilliam Brown."

She shook her head in distaste. "You can't even toast bread without scorching it to within an inch of its life, Doctor!"

"Oh, what utter tripe! It's already dead, my dear! It doesn't _have_ a life!"

"That's beside the point, Doctor. You _suck_ at cooking and you know it! You're just embarrassed to admit it!" She laughed raucously.

"Embarrassed to admit-! Embarrassed! Embarrassed! Me? My dear Perpugilliam-" He frowned suddenly. "Out! Out, you! Get out of my bed! Be off with you! Go back to your own bed! You, you..."

"I'm right, though, aren't I?" She met his eye.

"Absolutely not!" he replied. "Alright then, I'll _prove_ it!"

"Aliens!" she joked. "Think they know everything."

"Humans!" he returned darkly. "Think they know everything!"

She snickered. "Oh, Doctor, don't know you that's because we _do_!" she joked, cooingly.

"You - _with that hair!_ Know everything! Bah!"

"What's wrong with my hair, Doctor?" she asked, patting a hand on top of her hair.

"Well, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" he teased.

"You're mean."

"Yes I am."

"I'm still better at making cake, though."

"Oh-! What?"

She smiled. "Unlike you, I make messy hair look _good_. Gorgeous, in fact. And I also bake a mean chocolate cake. I don't think I care very much how mean you are - my chocolate cake's meaner! Ner!"

"Pardon me?"

"Ner!"

"Oh that's not a word!"

"It is too."

"No it isn't!"

"Don't care. I know you're just trying to weasel your way out of our little bet because you already _know_ you'll lose!"

"Rubbish! We'll soon see who's the loser!"

She jumped up out of bed, only slightly sorry that it was suddenly freezing cold, and raced back over to her bed to put her shoes on. She laughed. She was totally gonna win. How could she not? The Doctor was hopeless at cooking. Couldn't even make a piece of toast. Yep, this was going to be epic! The Doctor would have to give her some credit, at least, when she out-baked him. He wasn't better than her at _everything_!

.

Peri glanced around the kitchenette, now looking a lot messier than before. They'd have a job on their hands cleaning it up when they left, she thought. One more thing she'd be better at than the Doctor. All of that... normal folk stuff, people just living their lives stuff. She patted at her hair to dislodge the flour there. It was lucky, really, that the supermarket had been open on the weekend in such a small town. She'd seen ones that weren't. It was an okay town, she decided, even if the motel was a bit... dumpy. Well, the heater, really. The kitchenette was alright, and the oven worked. Hooray!

She sighed and counted to ten again. Now that the cake was done, she could hardly wait for it to cool. She was suddenly in the mood for chocolate cake. _Oh please, hurry!_

The Doctor was sitting at the table, feigning patience. He was quite good at it. He'd almost had her fooled, for a second there.

She turned on the spot and sighed heavily. She walked over to the cutlery drawer and took out a large knife, choosing the one with the straight blade, without the serrations. She didn't want to mangle the thing.

"What are you doing with that knife, girl?" the Doctor asked calmly.

"I _do_ know how to use a knife, Doctor. Or would you prefer to hold my hand?" She wiggled the fingers on her free hand, the hand not holding the knife.

He shook his head and sighed, slowly getting to his feet. "If you must..."

"I'm starving!"

"Yes, well, I can very well imagine that," he replied.

"Huh!" she huffed.

"Go on, you."

"Suspense killing you?"

"Hardly, my dear."

She made sure her expression was 100 percent professional, and walked over to the cakes. Time to cut the cake, time to see who was the winner! She really hoped it was her. It just... had to be.

.

"I concede," the Doctor sighed. "I'm just not the culinary delight I remember myself to be. Oh, and believe you me, was I ever! Funny that, but I never remember Susan complaining." He shook his head. "Useless!"

"Susan?" Peri asked, through a mouthful of cake.

The Doctor made a face. "One should never talk whilst eating. It's unsightly."

She finished up with what she'd been chewing on and poked her tongue out at him. "Susan then..."

He sighed, his gaze, for a moment, looking very far away. "Never you mind about that, my dear. Years ago. It was all years ago. _Ages_ ago." He said _ages_ like he really meant it, really _felt_ it, not like how the teenagers all said it nowadays, flippantly. It only made Peri all the more curious to know who this Susan was. It was a moment before she thought, _Well, maybe she's no-one. Maybe he made her up. To detract from the moment, or whatever; from having lost._

She shrugged mentally. Even if Susan was - had been - a real person, what was it any of her business? It wasn't as though she'd shared her whole life's story with the guy, so why should he do so with her? That was expecting too much, she decided.

She said, "Did you think you'd just be able to pick it back up, just like that? If it's been so long since you've made a cake, didn't you think it would take some getting used to again? Silly you! Yay me! I win!"

"So you do, my dear," he replied, slightly putout.

Peri almost faltered, almost lost her smile. Then she shook it off and laughed. The Doctor was just trying to get to her. When it came to competitions, he couldn't be trusted. Even when he lost, fair and square. He was a bit of a sore loser. He hated to admit defeat. She'd seen it enough times before.

The Doctor smiled. Yes, yes, wasn't it all very... fantastic.

"Well?"

The Doctor frowned, suddenly. "Well?" he repeated.

"I win," she reminded.

"Yay you!"

She laughed. Could he have sounded any less enthused for her? A sore loser, for sure! "I win," she repeated, pointedly. Seeing that he was still missing the point, she put on a frown and a gruff voice and began, "'I'll stake my life on it!'" then she did a girly voice, "'Ha-ha! But, Doctor, do you think that's such a great idea! The world needs you! Ha-ha!'"

The Doctor shot her a funny look. "Strange. Strange child."

Peri clicked her fingers. "Wants her prize now, Strange Child does."

The Doctor got out his sonic screwdriver. "I can't persuade you to forget this bet, at all, can I?"

"Nope!"

"Vulgar savages," he muttered, stowing the sonic screwdriver away in his colourful coat.

"Don't tell me you've never kissed someone, Doc."

"Of course I have!" he replied, a little too snappily, she thought.

"Then what's the problem?" She grinned and shot him a wink. "I promise it won't hurt."

"That's what you think," he muttered.

"Don't be a baby," she told him. "I won, you lost. Fair's fair."

"You're determined to torment me, aren't you?"

"Yep! Guilty as charged." She'd admitted to that one before she'd thought how the Doctor might construe her words, in his current frame of mind, and now, thinking about it, she wanted to slap herself. All of her earlier enthusiasm melted to the floor.

The Doctor offered her his hand.

It took her a moment to realise he meant for her to take it. _Hold my hand._ She took his hand, feeling silly now. It wasn't the same when it was planned, she thought suddenly. It lost some of its magic. Was that how it was to be married? she wondered. No, surely she had something wrong, something mixed up. It was... it was just because the mood was now rather dead. Had the mood still been alive, things would have been... different. She supposed it served her right. Now she felt just like the Doctor, in this whole scheme. A fool; used.

She wanted to say, "Let's forget about it, hey?" but the Doctor was holding her hand, and she was holding his, and it just seemed as though, well, it all would have been rather pointless, in that case. She could do this, right? A kiss could mean many things. A kiss wasn't bad. She could do this.

She smiled and stepped closer, holding the Doctor's hand tightly. She didn't mean to, but she closed her eyes. It wasn't until she felt the Doctor press a kiss to her forehead that she realised it had been a mistake. Damn! She'd rather effectively given him a way out, effectively forfeited her one chance to know how he felt about her. Oh, she was a fool!

She opened her eyes, forcing a little smile onto her lips, and whispered, "You cheater." She wouldn't be mean about it, it was her own fault.

"Yeah," the Doctor agreed. He was, wasn't he.

The telephone rang, shattering the silence with whip-like accuracy.

Peri flinched.

The Doctor nodded. "It's for you," he said softly.

Peri frowned. For a moment, she didn't move, then the meaning of his words suddenly sunk in and she walked to the telephone and picked it up. "Sun Valley Motel. Peri here."

"It's me, darling."

She frowned. How in the Hell had her mom got this number? She turned and offered the Doctor a hard glare. Was that the reason for this little excursion? This little trip back home? She shook her head and turned away, glaring at the wall instead. "How are you? Getting by?"

"Yes, yes. You?"

"Sure."

"That's good to hear. I'm happy to hear that you're doing well. I was glad to get your letter, darling."

_What letter?_ she thought darkly, hating the Doctor all the more. What was he playing at now? He had no Goddamn idea! No fucking idea! Yet he was interfering. When had he become such an interfering prick? She wanted to drop the phone and storm over there and smack him one over the face.

"Darling?"

"I'm still here, Mom. Yeah. I thought you'd be chuffed."

"Chuffed?"

"Happy," she said, a little flatly, and smiled mechanically as though to inject some liveliness into her tone.

"You'll be coming home soon, then?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know, Mom. Truthfully, I don't."

"Darling, we're not angry at you. How could we be? We just miss you. Won't you please-"

"Talk to you later, Mom," she replied curtly. "Love you." She hung the phone up, turning to the Doctor with a death glare. "You bastard!"

The Doctor shrugged. "She's your mother, Perpugilliam."

"Bastard!"

"Old." He shook his head and headed for the door.

"That's it?" Peri yelled after him. "You're just going to leave? Fuck off, whilst you can? Is that it? Huh?"

"I'm going for a walk," he merely replied.

She didn't fucking believe him. Grabbing the nearest thing at hand, she turfed it in his direction. It missed. He opened the door, stepped outside and closed the door after him. Peri screamed after him, a string of swear words she wouldn't have remembered if she'd been pressed. She grabbed whatever was closest to her and hurled it at the door. It wasn't until she finally saw the mess she'd made, the disaster she'd created, that she sunk to the floor and started sobbing.

.

The clock on the wall read 5PM, when she woke up, and she realised she wasn't lying in a heap on the kitchenette floor anymore, someone had carried her to bed. That familiar feeling of anger came rushing back to her, stinging as it did, and she threw the blankets off, shooting to her feet.

The room was clean again, as though it had never been a mess. It made Peri even angrier. Yeah, sure, just sweep it _all_ under the carpet!

The Doctor was sitting at the table, once more.

Peri glared at him insanely. She didn't care what she looked like. She really didn't care one iota.

"Peri-"

"Don't _you_ talk to me!" she hissed furiously.

Softly, "She's dying, Peri. Your mother's dying."

Peri laughed at him. Oh, fucking sure! Sure, sure!

The Doctor merely looked at her, met her eye. _It's true. I'm sorry, but it's true._

She didn't want to say anything mean, she didn't want to be so angry, she wanted to let go of all that. Instead, she heard herself snap spitefully, "Good for her! She can so easily rid herself of it all! Good for her, the bitch!" And then she was outside, running, her lungs burning in the chill, the biting cold, her legs aching, her feet protesting that they were bare.

.

She came back to the motel, eventually. Sopping wet, from head to toe, with mud-covered feet, but she came back. She wasn't crying, but the Doctor pulled her into his arms and held her, anyway. Still, she didn't cry, but it didn't even seem to matter. Her feet were so sore, she was so cold, but it didn't matter. It couldn't have mattered less.

.

Peri visited her mother in the hospital, didn't see the point in her being there, really, but visited her all the same. What was wrong with her couldn't be helped now. She seemed not to mind that she was surrounded by misery and death, seemed only to care that she was in hospital, that there was always someone around, if she needed them. She was doing the right thing; she was doing what they always said you should do. If she thought she might improve, suddenly recover, Peri didn't know, but she knew it wasn't going to happen.

She knew, too, that the part of her that had been so deeply hurt wasn't the part speaking when she said "I forgive you". That part of her was hiding away, holding tightly to its bitter pill, in the deep, dark recesses of her soul; it would not come out, not for anything. It now only existed to poison the remaining parts of her soul that might have said "It's okay; I'm alive: I lived through it", to seek out and break all of the good things in her life, to turn her against them and hurt her all over again.

When her mother was finally gone, she promised herself one night, holding her mother's too-dry, warm hand, she would let go of that bitterness, that darkness, she would find a way to live again, to really live. Her mother would be free, then, but she wouldn't be free, would never truly be free, until she decided that that was how it had to be, that the only way forward was by letting go of the burden of the past, rather than letting herself be dragged down and drowned by it.

She didn't talk to her step-father, at the hospital. Not even around her mother, not even for her benefit. She simply refused. The Doctor had stayed out of it all, for once, but she didn't need him holding her hand to lift her head up high and say, "This time, I decide; this time, you're not a part of my life." She could do that herself, and she did.

Two or three hours before her mother finally passed on, she wished her all the best on whatever journey was to come. She didn't make a big thing out of, and she didn't cry, because why would she, really. She'd lost her mother a long time ago; she'd lost the woman she'd have been proud to call her mother years ago. Ages ago. She could see that there wasn't much time left, that her mother was going, would be going, very shortly. But she didn't stay. At least, she didn't stay with her, in the room.

She waited outside, in the cold, white corridor. She didn't come back in. She'd said everything she could possibly say, save the vast backlog of venom she'd amassed over the years, the raw, dark anger, the disappointment and abandonment she'd felt. She left all of that out. It wasn't the sort of thing you laid on a dying person. And why? Why do it? It would be over for them soon. They wouldn't have to deal with any longer, so why make it harder on herself when she looked back and remembered, _Those were my parting words to my dying mother: "I hope you die, bitch!"_

No, if only for her own sake, she refrained from doing so. Perhaps, inside, she still loved the idea of her mother, the idea of _a_ mother, of the woman her mother might have been, but she no longer loved her mother, no longer loved the woman herself. She'd played at half-pretences for so long that it felt... strange and liberating all at the same time, not to have to do so any longer. And sad. So, so sad. If only she could have marched in there, taken that woman's hand and said, "I'll miss you, Mom. Have a _damn_ good life, wherever it is you're off to!"

But it wasn't to be. The sentiment would have been false. A lie. So she stayed in that corridor, alone.

Her step-father was in there when she departed, when she finally died. He had probably held her hand until the last. When he came out, he stopped in the doorway and said, "Are you happy now?"

And she smiled and replied back, "Oh yes!" And she was. It was over for her mother; good for her. It was just beginning, for her daughter, but that was okay. It really was. Then she turned on her heel and left her step-father standing there, in the corridor, alone.

He was no father of hers any longer.

.

Peri didn't go to her mother's funeral. Didn't see why. But she made herself a promise: _From now on, I live._

She fully intended on keeping that promise.

.

The cemetery was well kept, very neat. Quite a picturesque place, really. And deserted. Had it not been, the Doctor might not have gone. But, as it was, that was okay.

It wasn't hard to find what he was looking for, despite his less-than-impressive directional sense. Pity, really; he'd always had a rather unerring sense of direction: this time, he might've got lost in his own closet, had he not been paying careful attention along the way. But, putting all that aside, he remembered why he'd come and stopped in front of the fairly recent headstone. Of course, there was all of the usual trimmings: _Beloved wife and daughter_... and so forth. To be expected, he supposed. But he hadn't come for any of that. Peri's mother was gone. Long gone, by now. If her soul lingered on, somewhere, it certainly was not in this place. Still, he placed the bright sunflower down with the other floral gifts and stood for a few moments in silence.

He'd never met Peri's mother, hadn't known the woman from the next sorry sod, but that was hardly the point. She'd gotten quite a lot of flowers, in honesty. He knew Peri hadn't attended the funeral service, hadn't expected her to, either. He certainly hadn't thought, _Well, some daughter she is!_ He understood that, sometimes, you could only do so much, sometimes, you had to stop and say, "I'm sorry, but that's all I can give; no more."

The bright yellow sunflower looked out of place amongst the mass of other flowers waiting to curl up and wither away into nothing, waiting to rejoin the earth that they'd sprung from, once alive, now dead. Perhaps that was why people gave flowers at funerals. To say, "Look, it's alright, we know how this works."

He held back a sigh as the wind picked up and turned and walked back the way he'd come, back to the TARDIS. He'd do his very best to look after the girl, he thought. Not for Peri's mother's sake, but for Peri. For his friend.

Inside, safe from the cold, he found Peri in her room, asleep, and sat down on the side of her bed carefully, as not to wake her. He really had to try not to upset her so much, it wasn't fair. "I'm so sorry."

And he was. For being such a rotten friend, for her mother passing so suddenly, for all of the promises he'd ever made her - in words, or not - that now lay shattered on the ground, like broken glass, waiting to hurt her should she make one wrong move.

He leant down and placed a kiss on her forehead.

He'd never admit it, never out loud, but he wasn't so different from her, from humans; he had feelings, too, and it hurt when... when he couldn't even show someone who cared for him that he cared, too, that he appreciated their friendship. It hurt him that he'd hurt Peri, that he'd let her down so badly, on so many occasions.

He just hoped that he could find a way, in future, to stop that, to finally treat her as she deserved. As a human being. As a friend.

He hoped, more than anything, for that.


End file.
